#64 – Tim Horton’s Brown Sludge Water™, Part Five: Abuse? More like Profits!

Tim Hortons is a shit place to work, and the cakers who purchase Tim Hortons franchises are actively engaged in the wretched trade of using foreigners to perpetuate bullshit Canadiana narratives. It is truly a sign of how few fucks cakers give for their “diverse” neighbors that these wretched businesses are allowed to get away with treating their workers like complete toss.

To give you an idea of how bad this is gonna get, I’m going to pull out this story about how franchise owners repeatedly asked for Mexican hostages temporary foreign workers, and when said Mexicans rightly complained about the retarded rule of the pettiest of despots, some caker named Tony Van Den Bosch, said Mexicans were subsequently deported. And there are more than a few tyrannical dipshits treating foreign workers like shit. This first paragraph has been about foreign workers because foreigners are the only people who will work these trash jobs unless the poverty of the place is so extreme that domestics will take such lowly jobs. The picture below is of Pierre Pelletier. Just look at this fucknut.

This is the face of Canadian business.

Let’s list some of the miserable possibilities available to the poor schmuck who has been either reduced or seduced into working at these miserable factories of sadness. After dumping your resume in at your local Tims you can look forward to the awesome prospect of getting your junk roasted by a shattering coffeepot. Speaking of gonads, a Timslave can also enjoy the incredible bevy of disgusting fluids, behaviors, and abuses of the average caker scumbag. And don’t even think about collecting tips, an already-sad act of desperation that signals for all to see the immutable cruelty of the despotic shitlicks who purchase and operate your average house of sludge. Looking to leave after your shift is over? Basic human dignity ain’t what you signed up for, pleb! Enjoy working for free!

Such enviable working conditions are of course why the only people who work these jobs are the foreigners who have been duped into coming here. Such an unmitigated cruelty surely has no place in Canada’s utopia of multicultural bliss, right? Surely the wise, honest Canadians would resoundingly tell this corporate behemoth that it would have to improve working conditions to a point where Tim’s isn’t basically hell on earth to work at if it wanted to employ people. Already sick of decaying quality and rising prices, one would expect Canadians to finally send this antiquated, feeble corpse of a business to its grave for its poor labor practices.

Nope! Tim Hortons’ parent company is doing fine despite Tims being washed up and unable to expand beyond the caker frontier. The company even went so far as to stamp their feet and jack the cost of their awful breakfast “sandwiches” when Ontario raised minimum wage in a futile attempt to address the runaway cost of living in that province. Apparently the people I’m supposed to feel for in this context, at least as far as the Canadian Federation of Independent Businesses (which is a fucking lark – in what universe is Tim’s an “independent” business?), are those poor franchisees who were forced to pay their people. Yes, the raise was too much for Tim Hortons’ shitty franchisees, who cut paltry benefits like any good caker business would when forced to acknowledge rising costs and inferior product. Why address the quality problem when your margins are shrinking when you can shaft other people, right?

The circle of caker business that ultimately serves to shit on the common man finds its full apotheosis as Tim Hortons heirs, a bunch of worthless cakers who fled to Florida to enjoy the superior American culture forced their wage slaves valued employees sign forms effectively decrying the wage increase. Surprisingly, cakers opted to protest this behavior, threatening to boycott shit food that they would already have run out of town if they had any taste. And in classic caker style, the parent company’s response to this childish behavior is to complain while doing nothing about it. Passing the buck while people suffer is a Canadian tradition, just like disgusting sock-water!


#46 – Tim Horton’s Brown Sludge Water™, Part Four: the Timitentiary

One of the least pleasant places in the world to be is at a Tim Hortons “café”. Who wouldn’t want to sit staring into a void of parking, listening to underpaid workers attempting to negotiate temporary peace with knuckle-dragging shitbiscuit customers who don’t seem to understand that the milk and cream are poured automatically and pre-portioned (which means that no, the workers weren’t “trying to cheat me” out of milk, which is a refrain I hear far too often). The scope of the unpleasantness is vast and has myriad entrepots for blame. Some blame certainly goes to Tim’s stubborn adhesion to Canada’s equally-uncritical relationship with personal motorcars, which ensures that the outside world looks hideous and uninviting. Metal furnishings tinted with varying shades of shit-brown provide an uncomfortable allusion to shit, which when considering the quality of Tim’s products is not an association that they should be wanting to make. Uncomfortable chairs, ugly designs, bad urban form, and cakers as far as the eye can see. This sounds like my version of hell.

The horror of the physical experience of a Tim Horton’s begins before you even get inside. Cakers and their insane reliance on both driving and drinking a substance that needs to be plied with an unyielding quantity of fat and sugar in order to be palatable combine to create legendarily-stupid traffic snarls. Of course, the lack of planning and foresight incumbent to Canada don’t help in this regard, as moronic cakers are inclined to simply queue in their cars like cud-chewing morons when confronted with delay rather than considering whether they could go, y’know, literally anywhere else. Cakers are so in love with bad coffee and driving metal boxes that they regularly break traffic laws across Canada. Here’s Terrace, B.C. being retarded. The oilheaded buffoons of Fort McMurray are apparently of the opinion that roadways are akin to drive-through lineups. The mysteries of getting out of your car and walking into the Timitentiary are too much for cakers – from coast to coast, these morons can’t manage to grasp the incredible power that is fucking getting out of the car and walking. And we wonder why Canada is obese as fuck?

After crossing the vehicular Rubicon and daring to go inside the Tim’s you could almost be excused for huddling in your car and causing traffic snarls rather than going inside. When even the head office operates like a prison you just know that the front-facing experience is going to suck. Indeed, the average Tim Hortons has the aesthetic and feel of a waiting room in a substandard caker prison. A fixation on price-cutting and skeleton-staffing throughout the factory caker-feed industry means that the place is likely utterly disgusting. And check out these incredibly-comfortable looking chairs:

(S) Void within, void without.

And just to show how ubiquitous this horror is, here’s another picture of the inside of a Tim Horton’s:

(S) Yup, that sure is some boring shit. Note the “view”.

People congregate in these places not because they are desirable places to be but because they are in many situations the only places remaining for cakers and their victims to sit and converse. Somewhere in these ugly-ass, one-size-fits-all walls there is a tragic sentiment – that somehow, Canadians gradually permitted the degradation of space to such a degree that sterile veneers and dirty floors supported by plastic donuts and wretched coffee have become the most common gathering places.

But at least those people who do go inside as opposed to wasting even more space in their vehicles than they would simply as people. Where cakers take to declaring the cultural force of Tim Hortons as a national marker of identity I take it as a sad testament to the fact that cakers claim to love places that are so abhorrent that so many of them avoid the entire place by sitting in their fucking cars. In either case the logic of the prison wins out – utilitarian slop and generic places for those who come in, and isolation for those who opt for the drive-through. Outside or in, there are few places as rotten by design as the average Tim Hortons.


#30 – Tim Horton’s Brown Sludge Water™, Part Three: A Review of the Tim Horton’s K-Cup

For the last couple of years I have worked as a generic office drone, doing generic office drone things so as to be able to afford a tiny shithole of an apartment.

(S) Office drone is about all that this piece of shit paperwork gets you in Canada

Anyone familar with North American workplace tradition knows that one of the most important ways to avoid doing any work (or, more accurately, to avoid showing authority figures that you have no idea what, if anything you’re supposed to be doing) is to grab a cup of coffee and take it to your cubicle. Unfortunately, I work in Canada, which means that I am subject to the norms of urban design in Canada. Being subject to Canada’s atrocious urban form and insane car dependence and working in an office that is too small to justify an actual coffee maker, I am forced to use what is perhaps the most evil invention ever afflicted upon those who like coffee: the Keurig machine.

The Keurig is to coffee what personal motorcar is to the urban center – a dull, wasteful, and ultimately unsatisfying experience that would have been far more enjoyable with simpler tools. How bad are these fucking things? Their inventor, John Sylvan has in his way repudiated their existence, saying that he doesn’t get why people even use them. With that kind of ringing endorsement who wouldn’t be jumping up and down for the chance to permanently piss on any perception of their product as a quality one by putting out some branded Kontent?

Enter Tim Horton’s, a company that cares about the quality of its goods in the same way that a gorilla cares about taking a shit.

(S) Even the cat on the mug looks desperate to get out of there

I have a confession to make. One morning at my office the only kind of Keurig coffee pod available was Tim Horton’s. Yes, reader – I tasted of the K-Tim Horton’s Brown Sludge Water™. And in doing so I have found a new low for branded Canadiana. Upon my first sip I was promptly slapped with the fused flavors of drywall-compound and the stale taste of week-old water trapped in a reservoir. The smell of coffee was there, but the coffee itself tasted watered-down. Which was in its way a mercy, seeing as how that collection of flavors ought to be classified as a war crime. The too-cool-to-be-hot, too-hot-to-be-lukewarm temperature and horrifying lingering stench of what honestly smelled like furniture polish mixed with glue invaded my face like Genghis Goddamn Khan. I don’t know what black magic invented plastic coffee, but a dark sorcery it is indeed.

It should be noted that I am pretty okay with all kinds of coffee. I am decidedly not a coffee snob – most mornings start with me, the cheapest coffee beans on the shelf, and my French press. But if ever this unholy monstrosity is offered to you, you run. Run, dammit. You don’t deserve that. You deserve better than Canada from the start, but that fucking coffee ruined my day. It tasted like Canada feels – cloying in all the wrong places. I cannot stress enough how unacceptable this product is. I actually took the expired K-Cup outside and booted it into the snow because of how much I hate that fucking Tim Horton’s Brown Sludge Water™ deviant.

Mercifully, McDonald’s coffee came to me this afternoon by way of coupon. Good God, have I never been more grateful for AmeriKKKa. That too-hot freedom scalding my throat because I was an idiot was a blessing. God bless America for its ability to provide coffee that isn’t wrapped in bullshit to its hapless neighbor.

Jesus Fuck, though. Fuck everything about that Tim Horton’s merchandise. Getting as far away as possible from that hot garbage is a damn good idea.

#8 – Tim Horton’s Brown Sludge Water™, Part 1 – the Drink of Minivan Drivers

English Canada drinks what is perhaps the most disgusting coffee I have ever had, and it’s proud of itself for doing so.

Canadian coffee culture is nothing like the superior coffee cultures abroad. In places like Malta, coffee is understood as a social, fundamentally enjoyable activity. I have fond memories of sitting in Berlin’s Tiergarten with a lovely Americano and a soundtrack of birds and passersby to listen to. A conversation I had in Rome at a cafe became an impromptu English lesson/study session held over cups of nutty, dark espresso. My fondest memories of coffee elsewhere come with warm smells and wonderful environments; the fine coffee and the goregous space enhanced one another. Even takeout chain coffee – Malta’s Costa Coffee, Berlin’s Balzac Coffee; hell, even McDonald’s serves its function as a decent pick-me-up at a reasonable price.

In Canada, coffee is divided into two groups. The first group consists of grim Mom-and-Pop types – local chains and the like. They come in several breeds of suck, including grim holes that don’t even bother hiding the fact that their pastries are frozen pucks of shit, useless vegan free-range hipster coffee that costs way too much and invariably tastes like ashtray and trying too hard, and the ever-popular novelty cafe that makes enjoying a cup of coffee nigh-impossible. This is Canada’s sadsack “upscale coffee culture”, competing with the likes of Valletta’s Caffe Cordina. Obviously this type is inferior (that is, if you can even access a place pretending to be a café), so we turn to the second type in search of a cheap cup (having given up on decent) and a place to sit.

The second group of coffee shops are industrial coffee-slingers, used to motivate Canada’s laboring class into swinging away at Canada’s useless economy. McDonald’s is probably the best option for the price, but since that’s AmeriKKKan and the upscale coffee we talked about earlier is often unacceptable and heinously expensive (protip: drip coffee is not worth $3, folks) Canada feels the need to promote as its national coffee the slick dark sludge that is Tim Horton’s Brown Sludge Water™. It is the most readily-available coffee in Canada, intimately associated with driving generic kids to generic arenas. Because of this caker nationalism reinforces the idea that the acrid freeze-dried baggie of tortured beans is acceptable or desirable. It’s shit, sure – but it’s Canada’s shit, and therefore it’s worth keeping around.

This misplaced consumptive nationalism manifests as a rabid defense for a cup of coffee that tastes like unrolled cigarettes and wall plaster. What’s really interesting is that telling people that the coffee sucks rarely provokes that kind of defense. What does it is mentioning that the space in which the coffee is consumed influences the taste and enjoyment of the coffee or that there are very few places to actually enjoy a cup of coffee as opposed to plowing through the stuff and getting back to work. Tim’s isn’t just a shit cup of coffee – it’s indicative of a shitty national attitude towards leisure. A shit building, in a shitty place often surrounded by parking, and surrounded by nothing is your national coffee. A shit coffee for a shit place is fitting but admitting to shit means acknowledging a problem, and to hell with that.

The glorification of Tim Horton’s coffee represents an instance of consumptive nationalism. To drink nasty coffee is to be Canadian, and to express enjoyment of the terrible built environments that these places are around is to affirm Canada as it is. I’m convinced that Canada’s mendaciously shit coffee culture is the result of a mendaciously shit built environment. The image of Tim Horton’s  – the defeated hockey mom driving her little one to get rammed into the boards at 5am again, the harried office worker in the drive through, the impoverished immigrant at the till, the loud and uncomfortable space blasting ads and garbage muzak at every turn – that’s the image of Canada that cakers want to maintain. The coffee is a sludgey avatar for shitty Canadian apologism and the almost laughably low bar that Canadians set for their own consumption.